


You're my faith

by BranwellBronte



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Job, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BranwellBronte/pseuds/BranwellBronte
Summary: A romantic marriage proposal followed by good sex. https://terrorkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/396.html?thread=11404#cmt11404





	You're my faith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JollyRogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyRogue/gifts).



            He had no ring. He would have to make do. And he knew how.

            “You know how I love your hands.”

            “It’s been mentioned in the past, James, yes.” Francis smiling a bit wryly as James takes his hand. The ice cranks against the hull and Francis’s cabin suffers the noise, but James blocks out the noise as he takes Francis by the hand until they’re sitting side by side on the bed. James moves his body close to Francis and strokes the back of his hand. “Well. You know what day it is, do you not?”

            “Let me think, James.” Francis pulls a face, shrugs, and shakes his head. “The days are just one long day here. Haven’t a clue. Unless, perhaps, it’s the anniversary of the day you first told me you loved me.”

            James groans through his teeth and shakes Francis’s hand side to side as Francis chuckles. “You had me going there for a second. You really did. Well you had really ought to remember what I’m about to ask you.” And James slides off the bed and settles on his knees directly in front of Francis.

            He hears Francis’s breath catch immediately in his throat. Francis shakes his head, fast, his eyes wide and shining. “James, what-”

            “No, no questions, not yet.” James places one fingertip over Francis’s lips. “I’ve told you endless times. When we separate finally, rolling to lie on our backs side by side. I always take your hands. I always kiss them and tell you I love them. You always laugh.

 ‘You know I can’t ever fathom why you love them.’ And I know that’s not true. You’ve built your life with your mind, yes, but your hands have helped. All the rough spots from when you were a mere ship’s boy. I can still feel them. The little scars from when you were still learning the ropes, so to speak. They all tell me your story. And all the lines on your palms. They’re so pronounced. Hand-readers would adore you. Never as much as I do, though. We were thrown together into this endless day, this endless night. But this lifetime isn’t endless. I adored you from afar for so long. I wasted so much time orbiting you, watching from a distance as you moved with all your grace from Captain and back to just a human man. It didn’t truly matter when you threw a barb at me because I knew it came from your own pain, not dislike of me. It didn’t make me think less of your grace, your desperation to care for us, even when you had to seem to be cruel. You’re not cruel. I like to think I had a hand in it, tapping away at the shell around the compassion you tried not to make clear, tapping until I broke it and we kissed and went to bed and I couldn’t stop holding your hands and I said, ‘I love you,’ and you said it back and that’s the light I hold dear that keeps me flying high above this ice, as if I had wings, wings as beautiful as yours, I’m soaring in the air because I’m with you and I will never finish this sentence, damn it, Francis, will you marry me?”

            The tears wobble precariously in Francis’s eyes until he blinks and they track down his face and land on his hands as James takes both of them in both of his. He kisses them and keeps his lips pressed firm to against Francis’s skin. Francis can’t seem to make a sound. James gazes up at him and Francis is nodding through his tears, nodding over and over and over. He clears his throat but doesn’t wipe his face, letting every tear be a drop of honesty of his joy

            “‘Yes’ is not a strong enough word, James. I love you all the seconds of every day and with every beat of my heart and every moment in between those beats. Will that do for ‘Yes’?”

            Every dream, every prayer, now has a _Yes._ James feels the happiest tears of his life drop down as squeezes Francis’s hands and presses them against his own cheek. “For all moments. All of them.”

            Their hands are useful afterwards. Instead of experimenting, as they still do after all this time, they move in their favorite way. Francis lies back, already moaning as he guides James onto his cock, James closing his eyes reflexively in the glorious pleasure of the first moments of feeling Francis inside him. But he keeps his eyes open as often as he can because watching Francis’s face, his mouth opening in gasps and smiles, his head twisting on the pillow, is one of the most satisfying things James knows in this life. He could come from watching Francis alone but he knows how to hold out as he splays his fingers on Francis’s chest as he rides him, lowering himself slowly up and down until he feels that wonderful spot inside him touched. Then he’s crying out as he feels the sweetness, hips moving so fast, faster than horses running, he thinks vaguely, and then he doesn’t think at all at Francis wraps his fingers around his cock. He pumps him in rhythm with his hips bucking up into James, James arching his back, lost in sensation.

They know each other’s bodies well enough to be able to tell when they’re both close, Francis grabbing both of James’s hips and thrusting with abandon as James pushes himself down as far on Francis’s cock as he can and moments blur as ecstasy peaks. They’ve both talked about it before, how it feels right before you come, so James knows that Francis feels a desperate tingling while he himself feels a keen gathering. They time their movements perfectly and come almost in unison, James not moving off Francis’s cock as Francis strokes James’s hips. They both treasure the afterglow and don’t move to lie down together until they’re both breathing easily again and laughing as they wipe strands of hair away off each other’s sweat-stained foreheads.

 “Never thought there was any grace in me,” Francis murmurs into James’s chest as James gathers him to his breast. “Hardened and bitter for life, I thought. It took you for me to let the gates open, let you see me naked in my fear and loneliness. You did that, James. I’m ever thankful. To know I’m loved…I have an unshakeable kind of faith in the world now. You. You’re my faith. I love you.” He leans up and they kiss, mouths warm and soft, a gentle kiss, then harder, tongues chasing each other, then gentle again as Francis settles back against James’s chest. James reaches for Francis’s and finds that Francis is already moving it towards his. They link fingers and James feels a kind of warmth in his soul, a fire of tenderness that burns peacefully because the love of his life is now his husband.

When they wake up in the morning, their fingers are still linked, and every heartbeat forever after that sounds _Yes, yes, yes._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt by JollyRogue who has been so supportive and kind and enthusiastic about it, eternal thanks to them. x


End file.
